


Soft

by ktao3



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Especially Jack angst, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktao3/pseuds/ktao3
Summary: Jack and Miranda find themselves holding onto each other in the closing days of the Reaper War and after. Mostly Jack's point of view, emotional confusion, emotional journey, etc.These two! An endless well of OTP inspiration . . .Standalone story. Probably a few chapters. Just another take, in a close but slightly different, parallel universe to all the other Jackanda stories or series I've written.I can't stop.





	1. Chapter 1

Early in the morning, Jack roused from sleep to find herself in a strange room with Miranda’s arm draped across her bare belly. She shook her head to try to jump-start her memory. It began to flow back: Shepard’s apartment, the party, talking to Miranda by the bar for a long time. First they were bickering, then joking, then talking for real, and then . . . this bed.  


Images of Miranda straddling her, slowly unzipping her top. The sound of Miranda beneath her, quietly gasping out her name. Long, slow kisses the mere memory of which made her press her lips together as her heart began to pound. As if she could read her thoughts, Miranda lightly tightened the grip of the hand that was holding Jack’s side.  


Well, shit . . . It had actually happened. It wasn’t just that same dream that had annoyingly haunted her nights from time to time ever since the Normandy days. Long before Shepard and her stupid “Just kiss” joke, she had known there was something between them. There was no controlling that chemistry that just happened sometimes.  


It suddenly occurred to her that Shepard had been serious and intentional in pushing them together. She did love to play matchmaker . . . Jack found herself shaking her head without conscious thought. So, in the end—at the end of everything—did she like her? Like, did she actually like Miranda and not just want to screw her?  


She felt confused and kind of sad. And that stirred up some anger . . . Fucking bullshit feelings from wherever stupid bullshit feelings come from.  


As her eyes refocused, she saw that Miranda was gazing back at her from the neighboring pillow. She forced a smile, and Miranda smiled back, but her eyes were full of conflict too.  


Jack shifted a little and laid her hand on Miranda’s forearm. She cleared her throat and said, “Regretting your questionable decisions?”  


“Oh, constantly. But I wouldn’t include this . . .”  


Jack was silent for another moment, then said with a sigh, “Me either. I’m just joking around because . . . you know, I don’t know how to cope with this shit.”  


So, is this who I am now? she thought to herself. Talking to Miranda for hours last night, just laying my discomfort out in the open now? Guess the fucking apocalypse has a lot of strange effects. She realized this little drama was the least of it.  


Sure, she remembered when all she wanted was to kick Miranda’s ass. Not that Miranda wouldn’t have put up a good fight, but nothing had beaten pure rage-induced biotics. Not in a fair fight. And now they were in bed together. Ridiculous stereotypical dumb ass romantic movie bullshit . . . except she was realizing more and more in each second, it was real. She did like something about who Miranda was inside.  


As a million thoughts and rebuttals flowed through her mind, she heard Miranda reply, “I know.”  


Jack wondered if she heard a tinge of desperation in her own voice as she answered back, “It’s just . . . so complicated now. With everything . . .”  


Miranda pushed herself up to a seated position and smiled down at her. “Jack, I know. I get it.” Then she was standing up.  


The way she said her name. Jack felt a flush of her chest trying to creep up to her cheeks.  


No. Just no. It was time to fight monsters that showed no mercy. Not turn into . . . whatever this was.  


Soft.  


The Normandy squad had made her . . . sort of interested in other human beings and whether they lived or not. Now, worrying about the Grissom kids all the time had pulled her heart through to the wrong side of her ribs. Fucking bullshit. She pushed herself up to a sitting position too, and gripped her forehead with her right hand.  


“Jack, just answer this for me.” Miranda was standing there, dressed, put together. Very Miranda.  


“Yeah?”  


“When all of this is over, and we meet up again, just do me a favor and let me know if this night happened or not. You can say it did or we can pretend it didn’t. Either way, we’ll go from there, okay? Because you’re right. This is no time for . . . this. Fair?”  


Jack looked at Miranda, then turned away to swing her legs off her side of the bed. She stood and stretched, ran her hands through her hair, then walked around the bed till she was in front of Miranda. She couldn’t make herself reach for her, but she said firmly, “It happened. No matter what, that happened, okay? When this is over, we can laugh about it over a drink or . . . Or do whatever it is you do when you and your favorite pain-in-the-ass half-friend, half-enemy do that.”  


“Have sex?”  


“Hold on, hold on, we had sex?” Jack said in mock horror.  


Miranda laughed lightly then said with almost the same mock tone, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re right. Made love.”  


Jack groaned and rolled her eyes, but then their eyes met uncomfortably. Joking was the only escape, but it wasn’t working. They were trapped together in their awkward feelings.  


They both looked toward the ground, and then Miranda stepped forward to embrace Jack. “Don’t die, okay? I’d hate to miss out on the chance to make you this uncomfortable.” Joking, seriousness, it was all the same now.  


Jack pulled her as close as she could. “Fuck you, cheerleader.” Then, more quietly, “Just . . . stay safe and kill Cerberus motherfuckers. And Reaper husks. And . . . come and find me, okay? I want to make you miserable too.” She leaned back to look Miranda in the eyes, and then they were kissing again.  


Why did fucking bullshit feelings have to be so powerful?  


At the end of the kiss, Jack said, “Miranda, . . . thanks for last night. Talking. Everything.”  


For a second, Miranda looked like she wanted to make light of everything one more time, but instead she said, “Thank you, Jack. I enjoyed every second.” The sad smile again.  


Then, suddenly, Shepard was knocking on the door. “C’mon, you two. Whatever you’re doing in there, break it up. We’re all having breakfast together.”  


The moment was over. The war was back on, and they were in the middle of it. Jack turned to find her bag and felt a headache coming on as she held back tears. She told herself, Way too soft, fucker!  


But she knew Shepard cared about . . . everyone . . . and she was a hell of a soldier. She reminded herself to follow Shepard’s example. It hadn’t screwed her over yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war ends and Jack and Miranda find each other again.

“Watch your step. There’s still quite a bit of rubble.”  


No enemies screeching. No deafening blasts. No sounds of crying. Only Miranda’s crisp footsteps moving steadily before her through a dark alley. All of life had been surreal for months but this was still . . . definitely strange. Jack followed the sound.  


She couldn’t remember the last time she slept. Ate. Every memory she could bring up was the battlefield or the hospital. Always the smell of blood.  


She worked up enough energy to respond. “Yeah. Yeah. I got it.”  


She forced one boot in front of the other. She tried to reconstruct how exactly they had ended up here together.  


She had been outside of Prangley’s room. She had been haunting the hospital hallways for days, watching over her kids, trying to help out where she could. Guarding them.  


Avoiding the nightmares.  


Maybe she had been falling asleep against the wall. Was that possible? Then Miranda had just appeared. Somehow that hadn’t even seemed surprising in her dreamlike haze.  


They had been having a discussion, and it turned into an argument (of course). She didn’t want to leave, and Miranda was trying to convince her she should. She should leave, she should sleep, she should this, she should that. . . So bossy, like always. It felt familiar. Safe even.  


And Miranda just kept saying Prangley was safe, sleeping. That he was fine. That all the kids were fine. That Jack would be no good for them like this.  


Finally, she just gave in, exhausted. The idea of getting out of the hospital started to sound good. To breathe different air. To lie down. Miranda said, “Please, just come with me.” And she said, “Fine. I’ll fucking come if we can stop talking about it.”  


Now they were here. Walking. The outside air was cool and damp. It smelled of wet concrete. Their footsteps were muffled. She realized Miranda was holding her hand. It felt peaceful. Definitely surreal.  


They came to a door, and Miranda was punching in a long code. A hallway. Stairs. Another hallway, another door. Then their footsteps stopped.  


The next thing she knew, she was sitting on a bed. Miranda was even helping her with her boots. Jack was lying down on the softest mattress she had ever felt. And Miranda was climbing in next to her, resting a hand on her belly. Saying “Jack, sleep. I promise you everything will be okay till morning.”  


And then, finally, she slept.  


*****  


The exertion of the final shockwave dropped Jack to her knees. There was nothing to do now but close her eyes as the horde of husks descended upon her and all her students. They screamed for her help. Even the shrieks of banshees and endless echoing of gunfire couldn’t drown out their cries. As dozens of husks— inhuman sounds issuing from their throats—rushed at her, all she felt was the horror of failing them. Then husks were scratching her, gashing her skin, ripping her apart. As they swarmed, the smell of their rot was as nauseating as the pain. As terror and rage overwhelmed her, she started to scream. The sound filling her ears turned into . . .  


“Jack! Wake up. Wake up. It’s a dream. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” As Jack roused, she saw Miranda’s eyes looking down on her. Felt Miranda’s hand gently pressing on her chest. No husks, no kids. Just a bed in a dark room and Miranda Lawson looking worried.  


“Miranda? What’s going on?” Jack glanced around the room, completely disoriented. “Where are we?”  


“An apartment in London. My apartment for now.”  


Jack tried to absorb this, then asked, “We’re not at Shepard’s?”  


“We’re not at Shepard’s.”  


Jack was almost afraid to say it, but she had to ask: “Is the war really over?”  


Miranda saw the fear pass through Jack’s eyes. She squeezed her hand and said, “Yes. All the evidence Hackett has says it is.”  


“So we won. Shepard fucking did it . . .”  


“She did. We all did. Together, just like she wanted.”  


It was all coming back to Jack now. “My kids are in the hospital . . .”  


“Right. They’re fine. Recovering. You’ve been with them this whole time, till just a few hours ago.”  


“Why were you at the hospital?”  


Miranda inhaled and looked Jack in the eye. “Hackett’s people found Shepard.”  


Jack’s heart began to race again. The fear returned to her eyes. “Shepard? She’s . . .”  


“She’s in a coma. Alive, but she’s got a long road ahead. But . . . we can talk about all of that tomorrow. I promise you, everything that can be done is being done.”  


Jack nodded and rolled to her back. They lay silently for a few moments. Without talking, they shifted closer together. Miranda was holding her hand again.  


Finally Jack said, “Thanks for bringing me here. I . . . probably really did need the rest. It’s been . . . awhile.”  


Miranda looked thoughtful. “I know. I was happy to convince you of something for once.” Miranda wrapped her arm around Jack and pulled her closer. “You still need sleep. And I’m too tired to argue about it this time, okay?”  


Jack smiled faintly. There were so many other things she wanted to say but exhaustion was overcoming her again. All she could manage was a slightly sarcastic “I can’t help it if you’re wrong about almost everything all the time . . .”  


Miranda shook her head gently and said with a sparkle in her eyes, “Am I? Perhaps we’re better suited than I realized.”  


Jack nudged her and said, “Cheerleader, if you want me to sleep stop flirting with me.”  


They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. There was undeniable electricity between them but neither had the physical or psychological energy to deal with it. They somehow reached a silent agreement that the only solution was a gentle kiss. Then a slightly less gentle kiss. Then Miranda was holding Jack close and she whispered in her ear, “Sleep.” And Jack relaxed into all the softness and did as she asked.


End file.
